


Sincerely Yours

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: Talking wasn't always easy--so Aziraphale and Crowley took to writing each other over six millennia, and found love between the lines.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 74





	Sincerely Yours

Clay tablet, 4004 BC

To the Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate (Former)

Sorry I got you kicked off that posh job. Guarding a gate and keeping an eye on that blasted tree—that must have been sweet. All I ever got before that business with the apple was Throne Room Mucking duty, or tedious Duke of Hell tasks. And let me tell you, the Dukes of Hell have absolutely _no_ sense of humor. Ask me sometime about the prank I tried to pull on Hastur with the badger and the chair cushion.

Did _not_ go down a treat.

Anyway, look, we’re both stuck here now, right? And not a lot is going on, far as I can tell. What say we experiment with the grapes and something my lot is working on called fermentation? Sounds like _fun_. Come check out the comfy oasis I snagged—plenty of room for one more, if you don’t mind the occasional giraffe. 

I’m bored. See you soon?

Crawly, Lesser Demon and Occasional Serpent

Clay tablet, 4004 BC

To Crawly, Hereditary Enemy and Foul Fiend

Ahem. May I remind you that we are an _angel_ and a _demon?_ What are you thinking, going around putting such enticements down in writing—what if Someone _saw?_

I am preparing to embark upon a tour of the Earth, for the purpose of fully educating myself on its characteristics and inhabitants. Well, its animal inhabitants. The humans are going to take a while to get going, aren’t they? Pity the process is so slow. It _is_ rather tedious, all this waiting around for something interesting to occur. 

Still, your invitation is completely unacceptable. Naturally, Heaven is aware of Hell’s wiles, and Gabriel has informed me about the nature of fermentation and its effects. Goodness, such a devilish invention! I cannot imagine deliberately losing control of my senses—for what purpose, may I inquire? A state of intoxication would interfere with the performance of my heavenly duties, so I can only surmise that you are putting forth a temptation, and that simply will not do. Please cease at once, you daft serpent. I am immune to your devious machinations.

My world tour should take around a thousand years or thereabouts. Do find something useful to occupy your time with other than writing annoying messages to your enemy. 

Aziraphale, ANGEL on Earth

*

Clay tablet, 4003 BC

To Aziraphale, Sanctimonious ANGEL

That was an entertaining evening. Told you fermented grapes would be _fun_. Too bad you went and ruined it by devising that weird sobering-up trick. Yuck. 

And what was with the high-handed lecture afterwards? I didn’t tempt you into getting drunk—as you ought to recall, _you_ are the one who came to find _me_ , and you’re the one who complained about how boring the endless bloody desert was, and how the only interesting thing you’d found in six months was a beetle that rolled dung into tiny balls. Did _I_ tell you to go off on a tour of the Earth? Did _I_ tell you to go by _foot?_ Why don’t you just pop up to Heaven and pop back down again somewhere new a few hundred times—get it over and done with in a trice.

But no. You have to go around doing things the hard way. Idiot. How are you ever going to learn to navigate your way onto and off of the Earth? Hopeless.

You’re fun when you’ve had a few jugs of wine, though, I’ll say that. Loved that joke you told about the archangel Gabriel and the rabbits. Better not let them hear _that_ in Heaven. But that magic trick you tried to do—wait until you’re sober, Angel. The coin is supposed to disappear, not get stuck in my ear.

Don’t stay away too long, okay? I’m not such bad company, right? 

Come over for another drink soon. I’m lonely.

Crawly, DEMON and Not an Angel Tempter

P.S. Ever get that flaming sword of yours back, hm?

Clay Tablet, 4003 BC

To the DEMON Crawly, TEMPTER

Well, really. How could you put the flaming sword into a WRITTEN DOCUMENT?!? I broke your tablet into a thousand pieces after reading it—what if it found its way into the wrong—or would that be right—hands?

You vex me deeply. I am telling you now that when the human race gets into decent numbers—and I hear from Upstairs that there are plans to expedite the process soon—there will be plenty of other company on Earth and your dubious acquaintance shall no longer be needed. I am not in the least bit fooled by your friendly overtures—get thee behind me!

Aziraphale, Entirely Sober Angel

P.S. I must admit that the figs you found to go with the wine were scrumptious. 

P.S.S. Do please crumble this tablet into dust after reading.

*

Papyrus, 3005 BC

To Aziraphale, Principality of _Fun_

Hey, how did your tour of Australia go? I forgot to ask during our last little get-together at that tavern in Menefer. Didn’t sound that promising to me. More deserts everywhere. Know how you love slogging through _those_.

Look, something’s up over Mesopotamia way. Downstairs keeps hearing rumors that Upstairs has something big in the works there. Know anything about that? It’s got me worried. I’m used to hanging about on Earth—last thing I need is some sort of catastrophe that winds up with me back on Throne Room Mucking Duty. You have no idea how much evil-smelling _shite_ Lord Beelzebub keeps in that place to make the flies happy. Had to have a fresh load every day. Took hours to muck the old crap out and muck in the new. Could use a million or so of those dung beetles of yours down there.

And what did you mean by calling me a “dear fellow” when you were in your cups? When have I ever been anything but a foul fiend and hereditary enemy? Are you going _soft?_ Better be careful—the walls have ears, you know.

Not that I minded. I liked hearing you call me that. 

Crawly, Demon and Fellow Pursuer of _Fun_

Papyrus, 3005 BC

To Crawly, Spreader of Base Lies and Slander

I called you _what?_ Never. Not possible. How drunk _was_ I?

Listen, you are quite right about Mesopotamia. Something is definitely Up. I’ve been ordered to go there posthaste, to receive further instructions upon arrival. Gabriel mentioned that I might want to waterproof my corporation—what on Earth could he have _meant_ by that? Most peculiar.

Australia was dusty. And hot. And full of deserts, yes. The fauna was quite fabulous, though—there are huge creatures who hop about in the most fantastic fashion, and I saw mammals that laid eggs—they don’t normally do that, do they? I can’t recall, but I rather think not. Oh, and the birds! BIG birds that couldn’t fly, of all things. What will They think of next? 

So you may wish to follow me to Mesopotamia—I’ll just draw a map of the exact spot I’m going at the end of this note. And then BURN IT after you’ve memorized it. Though I suppose you can just sense where I am, right? Well, I’ll sketch out the route anyway, you never know.

By the way, the last time we had a meal, and apparently far too much to drink, I sensed a wave of _affection_ from you. That was not the first time I’ve felt such an inappropriate emotion, either. DO be sensible. We are the only two supernatural entities on Earth, and the only immortals, so far as I can determine. If you go around doing idiotic things like that, Someone might find out and take you away, or take me away, or take both of us away, and then where would I be? All alone here with no one except humans to talk to, which is like making friends with a mayfly for one of _our_ kind, or else I’d be back up in Heaven—do you know what I was doing up there before this assignment? I was _filing expense reports_ for the archangels. I ask you. And they do _not_ like to live on the cheap.

So, do please keep your waves of affection to yourself. 

The Principality Aziraphale, ANGEL and Hated Enemy, NOT a Friend

P.S. That was for prying eyes. Sorry.

P.S.S. BURN THIS. 

*

Papyrus, 2835 BC

To the Principality Aziraphale, ANGEL Who I Sorely Miss

I just found out that unicorns can’t reproduce all by themselves. Which means there will be _no more unicorns_ after this last one dies. Supposedly it can live a long time—I mean, it’s been around since at least the Flood, but it’s not immortal. Damn. You’ll just tell me it’s part of the Ineffable Plan, like always, but I am _upset_. Beautiful creature. 

I got bored what with you being In A Mood after that big deluge and flouncing off somewhere so after a long nap, I decided to look for the unicorn that was on the ark. Assume the other poor beast drowned along with a whole lot of other innocent creatures great and small. I don’t care if it puts you in a huff—bollocks to the Great blasted Plan. So there. Anyway, I popped in and out of a whole lot of places until finding it up north, area called Pictland. The unicorn seemed happy there. And it _liked_ me—kept following me around for the longest time. When does that ever happen? Hope it survives a while.

Whatever. I’m back in Egypt now. Haven’t seen you in a while, Angel. I know I said some, well, harsh things about the Flood and I know you hate it when I question the Almighty. But don’t stop being friendly, okay? I’m heading over your way soon. How about getting a bite to eat together? We don’t have to drink. I just want to see you. No agenda, no wiles, no temptations. Just a chat, all right? 

Please?

Crawly, Not Your Enemy

Papyrus, 2835 BC

To Crawly, Serpent of Earth Who Ought to Know Better

I am so sorry to hear about the unicorn. You did seem particularly fond of the beast. Perhaps we could visit the area in the future to see how it’s faring.

I do love all creatures and you did too, when you were an angel, and you seem to have retained a soft spot for them even after falling—well, let’s not talk about that. Sore subject, I believe.

You are quite correct that your remarks about God’s Plan were not to my liking. It appears that I have a fault, however, in holding a grudge too long and I suppose that I should work on that. Do forgive me for being overly high-minded. I _do_ wish to keep meeting for meals and drinks—we shall rectify that as soon as you arrive here. 

But honestly, you simply must learn to keep a lower profile! Casting aspersions upon God, of all things, is hardly the way to prevent trouble. I like you, Crawly. I really do. You are the only one who understands what it’s like to live on Earth, and the only one who can share the delights of human ways with me, and the only one I can talk to about my various worries. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here. 

So do restrain your opinions about the Great Plan. For my sake, please.

Aziraphale, Principality Etc., and So Forth

P.S. If you should happen to run across any figs on your way, could you pick up a basket or two for me? THANK YOU.

P.S.S. Burn this!

*

Clay tablet, 1897 BC

Dear Crawly,

No doubt it would be dangerous for me to express my thanks to you, but I _am_ most grateful for your timely intervention at Sodom. I had no idea that burning wall was about to fall. You saved me from certain discorporation. I’ve no idea what that feels like, having never experienced it, though I have seen angels who have. Positively dreadful, apparently—and it can take _ages_ to get a new body approved. Imagine if They had not allowed me to return to Earth!?

Thank goodness Sandalphon had just left the place before you arrived. What if he had seen? You must be especially wary of that one—he enjoys smiting far too much, and he has _not_ lost his flaming sword. Do be careful.

How about if I buy you lunch? Hardly fair recompense, considering, but I suppose it shall have to do. There are days, I must admit, when this whole “hereditary enemies” notion grates far too hard on my psyche. I know that I _have_ to say it, especially in public places, to keep us safe. Yet you have never been anything except kind to me. And I can’t help but notice how ineffective your attempts at causing trouble for the humans have been—they are much better at doing so themselves.

It strikes me that perhaps your heart is not entirely in your work.

Still, one mustn’t question the Ineffable Plan. We are what we are, and we must do what we must do. Sometimes, though…oh, drat. I really should not write this down. 

Yet sometimes I do wish we were not beholden to Heaven and Hell, and could be true friends.

Please break this into a million pieces.

Yours,

Aziraphale

Papyrus, 1897 BC

Angel,

Clay tablets are so last year. You’ve used papyrus before in Egypt—well, look, it’s spreading everywhere now, so get with the program. Why do you like to cling to the past?

Also, it’s easier to destroy after reading—just set it on fire. 

Yes, I broke your tablet into so much dust. I kept the sentiments expressed solidly entrenched in my memory, though. 

I’ve never been discorporated either. Brrrrr. Came close a few times, like when I tried out chariot racing in Thebes and went a little too fast. It was fun, though. Enjoyed the feeling of going fast—hope the humans come up with easier ways to do that.

Thanks for the warning about Sandalphon. He’s an archangel, right? All of them are wankers, if you ask me. Which you didn’t, and which you’ll probably chastise me for later. Whatever.

When are you going to join me here in Babylon? I found a place that sells pears, by the way—nice, juicy ones. Maybe I’ll save you a few…if you hurry, that is.

Your friend (I know, I know—BURN this),

Crawly

*

Parchment, 405 BC

To Crawly, Most Vexing of Demons

I am not speaking to you.

What was that all about, anyway? Just because we had a lovely time at the theater, and were happy and maybe a little drunk and just because that play of Aristophanes had a lot to do with Hades—I have never heard you laugh so hard before—and had Dionysus as the hero—well, I’ve gotten off track but my _point_ is, yes, we were feeling excessively cheerful upon leaving the theater yet you had no cause to go around _hugging_ me in that unusually prolonged fashion. And then you went and sent a wave of _love_ at me! Don’t think I didn’t notice!

My dear fellow, how many times do I need to warn you off being overly friendly? ESPECIALLY IN PUBLIC. 

NO hugging. No hand holding. No loudly spoken endearments. At least _whisper_ , for Heaven’s sake.

I feel we ought to take a break from each other’s company in light of this latest infraction. It pains me to do so, but needs must. I am annoyed about this. Very, very annoyed.

Aziraphale, ANGEL

P.S. Where did they ever find such an enormous dog to play the Hellhound, and how did they make its eyes glow? Did _you_ have anything to do with that?

*

Parchment, 352 BC

ANGEL,

Enough is enough. Being irritated by me is one thing, but holding long grudges is another thing entirely and I am so done with it. Athens is dead boring without you around. What are you doing up in Macedon, anyway? Stop pottering about in their affairs and get back here. They’re up to no good, I’m warning you—and I ought to know.

Frankly, I’m getting tired of the whole area. I hear Rome is an exciting place to be—why don’t we go check it out together? Come on, Angel. I’m sorry I hugged you. Get over it. 

Actually, I’m not sorry I hugged you. Felt _great_. I’m just sorry you overreacted.

Next time, I’ll do it in private, I promise.

Your Vexing Friend Who Is the ONLY OTHER SUPERNATURAL IMMORTAL ENTITY ON EARTH WHO YOU CAN TALK TO,

Crawly

P.S. I’m thinking about changing my name. 

P.S.S. I had nothing to do with the Hellhound in that play. Well, maybe a little bit. The glowing red eyes were a nice touch, don’t you think?

Parchment, 352 BC

Crawly,

Fine. I’m on my way. Phillip II is a bit of a prick, anyway. You are right about Macedon. Does not bode well for Athens.

Let’s go to Rome, then. 

I am NOT going to apologize for overreacting, as you call it. I am trying to _protect_ you, you idiot.

Yours,

Aziraphale

P.S. It _did_ feel nice.

P.S.S. Change your name? After all this time? You know perfectly well that I can’t handle change. It will take me _centuries_ to adjust! Do please reconsider, my dear.

*

Parchment, 41 AD

Aziraphale the _Tempter_ ,

Glad you enjoyed the oysters so much. I like seeing you smile. It’s fun to watch you eat—you get so much pleasure from it, and always get this delightful expression when you taste good food, sort of like you’re up on Cloud Nine. (You know, I never did understand why God felt the need to number them. After the first million or so, who can keep track?)

They’re not for me, though. Oysters, that is. Yeah, I like some of the food here—big improvement, all in all. Before I sauntered vaguely downwards, that was one of my complaints, you know. That the food in Heaven hadn’t been that good lately. Some of it tasted like sawdust. You must remember that. Blecch.

But not oysters. Not eating those again. The figs-in-honey were tasty. They do good desserts here, I’ll give them that. And wine. I think we should try every wine ever made anywhere on Earth at least once. Be a good project, that.

So thanks for tempting me into that meal, Angel. Didn’t know you had it in you. ‘Course, we come from the same original stock, after all. You _should_ be able to tempt anyone you like, same as I should be able to bless, or do a _good_ miracle once in a while. 

Be funny if we switched roles from time to time. Wonder if anyone would notice? Bet they wouldn’t. Last time I reported in, everyone Down There was too busy working on the leaky plumbing to pay any attention.

See you,

Crowley with an O and an E

Parchment, 41 AD

~~Crawly,~~

CrOwlEy,

Really? A two-letter change? I am still having difficulty with that, obviously. Why didn’t you choose something with more flair—you have a lot of flair, my dear. Something dramatic and exaggerated, like your emotions. Perhaps _Malafar_ , or maybe _Ashtoreth_ for when you are using your female corporation. 

I am not in the habit of tempting people. That was a mere slip of the tongue, and you know that perfectly well. Switching places and doing each other’s work indeed—behave yourself!

Yes, I _do_ know what you mean about the food in Heaven. You would think something with a name like _ambrosia_ would taste better, and you would also think that the angelic author of _Two Million Ways to Prepare Ambrosia_ would have managed to come up with at least a few that were actually tasty. Honestly. I am _so_ grateful for Earthly cooking. Did you know that I tracked down the human who invented the concept of marinades and blessed her family for all eternity? Bit self-indulgent, I realize, but no one has taken me to task for it. _Shhhh_. It will remain our little secret.

I do like Rome. Lots of wonderful eating establishments here. May it last a thousand years.

Aziraphale (I am _never_ changing my name!)

*

Parchment, 537 AD

It’s still CrOwley with an O, you idiot. Just how long does it take you to accept change?

Vellum, 537 AD

CROWLEY,

Look at this lovely piece of vellum I acquired, and look at how I am wasting it by penning a note to YOU.

I know what your name is! May I remind you that it was Crawly with an A for FOUR THOUSAND YEARS???? May I ask for just a little patience? But no. All I get is a load of fiendish chastising. You KNOW how slow I go—surely you are used to it by now! 

And why did you have to bring up that bizarre notion of staying home and not doing our jobs properly? Simply because They don’t pay attention most of the time doesn’t mean They won’t pay attention _any_ of the time. Why do you keep trying to skirt the rules? Oh, perhaps I know the answer—it’s because you are a DEMON and trying to outsmart others and get away with lying is WHAT YOU DO.

I feel a long grudge coming on.

Yes, yes, it’s not becoming behavior for an angel. Don’t bother responding. I have heard it before.

AZIRAPHALE

P.S. Do you have _any_ idea how hard it is to get quality oak gall ink these days? This missive cost me several frivolous miracles and was risky and I hope you appreciate the effort!

P.S.S. The Black Knight is a ridiculous name.

*

Vellum, 547 AD

To Mine Own Aziraphale,

See? You _can_ get better about holding grudges. Only ten years this time! Big improvement. Keep up the good work.

Yeah, I suppose my inducement (NOT a temptation) of those spiced pears from Dalmatia had a little to do with your coming round but hey, I missed you. I hate when we argue. Especially when it’s over stupid stuff. Which it always is.

You should have seen your face when you were eating those pears. You were practically glowing. On second thought, maybe you _were_ glowing. 

Notice how I wrote this on vellum, and added a couple of gold leaf flourishes? Expensive! You’re worth it, Angel. Even when you’re being tetchy with me, I still prefer your company to not having you around because most of the time you’re warm and friendly and happy and you make me laugh. And you make me _relax_ , and feel content. Do you have any idea how much that means to me, Angel? 

I never wanted to be a demon. You know that. I never meant to Fall. I loved being an angel, and I miss the stars. There was nothing good in my world after that million-lightyear dive into Hell. I lied about sauntering vaguely, you know—I just say that to sound nonchalant about the whole disaster, as if I don’t really care, as if it’s all fine, as if I’m okay. 

I didn’t saunter, Angel. I caught fire, and I fell a long, long way into a pool of burning sulfur. And it hurt so much that I thought at one point if I could only tear myself apart from the inside out maybe the pain would end.

And nothing ever got better Down There. It was only when I came up here, and found you, that the pain finally stopped. When I saw you that first time on the Wall of Eden, suddenly there was light again, and warmth, and for the first time in what seemed like eternity, I felt a flicker of affection. I felt _content_. 

Don’t let me stay alone here, Angel. 

I need you.

Your own Crowley

*

Vellum, 1025

My dear fellow,

This Arrangement is _working_. It was ever so worrying at first, and I felt terribly anxious, but my goodness, I’ve never had so much time before to do what I truly wish to do, thanks to your brilliant idea. There are so many books and manuscripts to read—and to collect! Someday I shall have to find a better place to store them all. If I can convince Heaven that I ought to have a permanent base of operations here, that might help. Perhaps in Londonium. Lovely little town.

You have made my life here so much more rewarding, Crowley. And not merely by this arrangement, either. I do so love your spirited approach to things—I am, as I’m certain you are aware, somewhat on the shy, retiring side—and _well-mannered_ , as befits my position. When we are together and you are being free and open with your emotions and when you are busy _engaging_ with the world rather than simply observing it, then I get to breathe that same vivid air vicariously. You are _exciting_ , my dear. I am not. You can be wild, and I can stand by to steady you when needed. I once thought we were such opposites as would not meld, yet now I believe we are more like two halves of a broken whole, and when in harmony, we seem to be more complete.

Most peculiar, really. And just a little bit ineffable.

Your own Aziraphale

Parchment, 1025

Oh Angel,

You shouldn’t say things like that…it makes me have _feelings_. You told me not to have those feelings for you, remember? Would you kindly make up your mind?

But whatever…you know…thanks. That was nice to hear. Two halves, one whole—could be. Absolutely bloody ineffable, you got that right. Wonder if the Almighty planned it this way? Wouldn’t put it past Her.

I’m happy that you’re happy with the Arrangement. I’m happy whenever you’re happy, Angel. Let’s keep it that way.

Your Other Half

P.S. That place hasn’t been called “Londonium” for over five hundred years. Seriously, when are you going to start paying attention? You can’t keep living in the past. Come and join me in the present day—it’s much more fun.

Parchment, 1025

Crowley,

I got carried away there. Yes, I am happy, yes I am grateful to you, and yes, we work well together and I want to be friends but my effusions were not meant to encourage _those feelings_ that you keep trying to express towards me. We are still hereditary enemies, in case you forgot. _Someone_ may be watching. Do please exercise restraint, for my sake. You _worry_ me.

Aziraphale 

*

Parchment, 1164

A.

I have searched the whole of Scotland. The unicorn is no more.

Are we truly the only two magical beings left on Earth?

C.

Vellum, 1164

Crowley,

My condolences. We should always strive to save all creatures great and small however we can.

Aziraphale

*

Parchment, 1428

Angel,

Definitely burn this one. 

I thought _I_ was going to burn at that stake. Careless of me, getting caught like that—if those bastards hadn’t bound my hands, I could have miracled my way out but damn, they were fast. Careless too, letting humans see me using my powers. Didn’t have time to think, though. Happened too fast—was walking along the river, saw a squirming sack floating by and heard high-pitched yelps and somehow I could practically see your face full of sorrow for all creatures great and small and I had to snap my fingers to move it to dry land. There was a young dog inside. You would have done the same thing—that’s what I was thinking. Did it for _you_.

So I guess it’s only fair that when those witnesses called me a witch and bound me up and hauled me off for trial that you would come to save me. Thank you, Angel. I know the risk you took. 

The dog keeps following me around. Cute little bugger with curly gray hair. I don’t do pets. Do you want him? I named him already. He’s called _Trouble_.

Crowley

P.S. He likes pears.

*

Vellum, 1448

My Dear,

Thank you for helping me yesterday. I have never had a pet before, and do not think I shall again. It was kind of you to dig the grave for Trouble. I know you enjoyed his company too when we met for all those many walks over all these past twenty years. I am glad that he had such a long, and happy life. I am glad you saved him. I am glad you gave him to me. 

And I am glad that we drank so much afterwards. I did not expect to cry so much, especially knowing that Trouble is frolicking and romping and chasing after ethereal squirrels in Heaven—I know, because I went up and checked, and he was perfectly happy. It was good of you to stay the night with me, and it was kind of you to get me drunk enough to laugh again. I must say, my dear, that deep down, I believe you really are quite a nice person.

Don’t hold it against me.

Your friend,

Angel

*

Paper letter, 1490

Angel,

I snagged an invitation for you to the Duke’s gala tomorrow night. You are not going to want to miss this one—I hear the banquet has twenty-two courses. Not counting desserts. Got some good musicians lined up, and as for the jester, I heard him a few nights ago and nearly split my tights from laughing.

Leonardo designed the decorations—fabulous stuff. I helped paint some of the backdrops! The workshop was understaffed, so he let me have a go. I snuck a portrait of an angel into one scene. You’ll have to see if you can spot it. Might look familiar.

So might the dark and dashing fellow standing next to him.

This is going to be _fun_.

Crowley

Parchment, 1490

Crowley, Crowley, Crowley—

You are too devious for words. When you wrote “standing” next to the angel in that decorative painting, I had no idea you meant “hugging” instead. Was that intended as a temptation? Was I supposed to be so overcome by your talents (which were quite amazing, I must say—they _looked_ like us) that I would take you in my arms right there in the ballroom? I think not. It was a public place. We’ve had this discussion. 

I really don’t know what to do with you sometimes.

Aziraphale

P.S. That banquet…oh, my. I may not need to eat for a week. _Thank you_.

Paper Note, 1490

Angel,

Parchment is dead. Paper is the new parchment. Get a clue.

Crowley

*

Letter on fine linen paper, 1601

Crowley the Cheating Demon,

Ahem. Did you not think that I would, at some point, cotton on to your coin-tossing ploy? I am not an idiot, Crowley. You have told me yourself on more than one occasion that you think I am quite clever. Well. I _am_.

I was only an hour or so into that debilitating horseback ride to Edinburgh when it occurred to me that _you_ were the one who asked to meet up somewhere. Yes, I was the one who suggested the theatre, but you were the one who wanted something from me, and when I asked what it was, you hemmed and hawed until you got me to say that I had to go north to do some work. Then you oh-so-seemingly-casually tossed out your remark about having to go to Edinburgh too—as if you didn’t already know ahead of time that I was going there! 

For it came to me, as my buttocks were bouncing in ways they were not designed to bounce, that you then said that’s why you thought we ought to invoke the Arrangement. You had it in mind BEFORE you came—in fact, it is WHY you asked to meet. So you could work your wiles on my unsuspecting, trusting nature, and get me to agree that only one of us needed to go, and then you tossed that coin and if you didn’t rig it to land the way you wanted it to than I am an aardvark.

I mean, really. After all we’ve been to each other. _You cheated!_ You used _wiles_ on me, you foul fiend. For shame.

My poor backside may never be the same.

I shall await your apology. It had better be a good one, or _else_.

Aziraphale

P.S. I do see that _Hamlet_ is a smash success now. That’s something, I suppose.

Letter on rag paper, 1601

Aziraphale, Angel of the Sore Bottom,

I’m sorry. 

I apologize for the coin toss. And the wiles. You’re right, it was beneath me, and not the way friends should treat one another. I am hanging my head in shame even as I put pen to paper.

It’s just that…well, the last time I had to ride a horse, it was this huge black beast with nostrils that I swear breathed out smoke, and I fell off it four times between London and Canterbury, so the idea of riding all the way to Scotland made me cringe. But I shouldn’t have palmed that off on you. Even though you always get small, gentle horses with names like Daisy or Ladybird. 

So, I am truly, truly sorry, Aziraphale. Don’t stop talking to me again. There is nothing I dread more in this whole world than the thought of not hearing your voice. 

Also, I happen to have two tickets to _Hamlet_ for a private box tomorrow night, and a hamper of your favorite foods and your favorite wine. 

Forgive me?

Crowley the Remorseful Demon

Note on Fine Linen Paper, 1601

C—

Box seats _and_ the hamper, _and_ wine?

I forgive you!

—A

P.S. Just don’t do it again!

*

Letter on wove paper, 1793

Angel, Angel, Angel,

How you have managed not to be discorporated is beyond me. Hm, let me think—oh, I know. Maybe it has something to do with the Guardian _Demon_ who has your back.

Will you _please_ not live in the past and inside your books and pay attention to what’s going on out there in the world? 

And please please please stop putting yourself in danger. Sodom was a close call, and there was that time in Alexandria when you nearly burned trying to save the books from that library, and can I ever forget Agincourt? How many horses did you think you could save on that bloody battlefield without getting an arrow through your head?

At least you still had a head. Listen to me, Angel—no amount of brioche is worth risking your neck over. I barely made it to the Bastille in time. What if someday I _don’t_ get there in time—have you ever thought of that? Will Heaven assign you another body without making you do a thousand years of penance first? Or worse, recalling you there permanently? 

If you won’t take more precautions for my sake, though I wish you would, then at least take them for the sake of the books and the food and the music and everything else you love on this Earth. Don’t treat these gifts so lightly—they don’t play Bach in Heaven, Aziraphale. 

And I can’t live here without you.

Crowley

P.S. The crepes were good. Just not _that_ good.

Letter on laid paper, 1793

Dear Crowley,

It occurs to me that all these long centuries, you have told me to pay more attention to what is going on in the world—to pay heed to change, and to not live so much within my own mind. It is true that books draw me in and won’t let me go. It is true that when I find things which attract me—be it clothes or furnishings or music, among many other things—that I wish to keep hold of them as long as possible. I want these wonderful things to _last_. 

The Earth, as no doubt you are aware, was intended to endure for a mere six thousand years before ending in fire and flame. We are not far off from that dreadful date.

I want to hold on to things, my dear. I don’t wish for them to end. And so I dwell in a world that doesn’t truly exist, one where the future which I fear does not intrude.

And so I do not pay heed to change. I put both of us in danger by it, and I am sorry. 

I am trying to hold on to _you_ as long as possible, too.

Your other half,

Aziraphale

*

Card on heavy stock, embellished with roses, February 14, 1800

Aziraphale,

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I love an angel

Who cares for me too

Sorry, best I can do. Poetry is not my strong suit.

Yours,

Crowley

Note accompanying parcel, February 15, 1800

My dear fellow,

What were you _thinking?_ The chocolates were one thing, but that card was quite another, and then pulling me into an embrace and pressing your lips upon mine! Thank goodness you had the decency to do so in a private place and thank heavens I had no customers!!!

The enclosed volume ( _The Young Man’s Valentine Writer_ ) may be of some assistance in your lyrical efforts in future. 

As for your other efforts…oh, what’s the use. You’re going to keep at it no matter what I say, aren’t you? You are incorrigible. 

Yours,

Aziraphale

P.S. Your lips felt divine.

P.S.S. The chocolates were scrumptious.

P.S.S.S. You are also impossible.

*

Letter on fine linen paper, 1862

Aziraphale.

You truly hurt me with that “fraternizing” nonsense. And for God—for Satan—for _Somebody’s_ sake—you are the one who keeps wanting to protect me and all I was trying to do was protect myself so what the heaven do you want? 

I think you’ve taken this current Victorian era too much to heart. It suits you so well—stuffy, fussy, and Oh So Well Mannered that I could scream. High-minded and sanctimonious to boot. I was fine with you getting into one of your Holier Than Thou moods when it only happened once in a great while but _this_ —this is too much, Aziraphale. And the thing is, it’s going to pass—this stuffed shirt era won’t last any more than any of the other eras we’ve lived through have lasted, so don’t think you can hold on to it forever.

You won’t like it when it ends, I can tell. But I’m going to like _you_ better when it does.

I know how you enjoy holding long grudges (and again, you _really_ ought to work on that— _not_ a good trait for an angel), so I am planning to take a nap for the rest of this blasted 19th century.

See you in 1900, Angel. Bet you’ll be missing me by then.

Crowley

P.S. I lied when I said that I didn’t need you. I do. 

P.S.S. I’ll miss _you_.

*

Letter on deckle-edged cream paper, 1900

Cr0wley. I boUgh5/t a tyPEwr ~~u~~ iterr See,, I caN n0ve ~~ah3aD~~ ahead wlth the tIMes if i ChO0s# OH h3LL!?@&$#@?!!!)^%#! WH kpe yp o ehryyjo yjod yp eptl tohjyzz/??!?

_(Switched to fountain pen.)_

Ahem. My apologies for the mess above. I have removed the page from the infernal machine and returned, as you can see, to the proper writing of a letter _by hand_ as a true gentleman ought to do. What was I thinking? 

Speaking of gentlemen, I have made friends at a gentleman’s club, and have learned a dance called the gavotte that is quite delightful.

I believe you may have had a valid point about my embracing of Victorian values. The gentleman’s club has been decidedly more freeing—I mean, imagine—an _angel_ taking up _dancing_. Shocking. 

And I do take your point about the passing of every era and its ways. The Queen is near the end of her life, and I imagine things will change once her wayward son ascends to the throne. I shall adjust. Slowly, as is my wont.

I do like the clothes, though. Might keep wearing those for a while.

All that being said, your absence has made me realize how much _safer_ we both are when we stay away from each other. The trees most likely _do_ have ears, and the Earth Observation Cameras run twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

Besides that, your increased affections towards me have only made things more dangerous. I still cannot believe you _kissed_ me in 1800. Yes, you displayed exemplary behavior after that incident, yet if we resumed our meetings, it would only be a matter of time before you lost control of your emotions once more. It’s what you _do_.

I do not think we should meet. You are risking far too much by your love, and I cannot bear to think of what could happen should it be revealed. 

I’m so ( _writing blurred by watery blots)_ and it is so hard to write this but ( _more obscured letters on still-damp, slightly salty paper)_ is for the best my dear.

Aziraphale

*

Postcard # 1 from Paris, 1926

Angel. I slept more. Good job on the typewriter. Bad job on actually using it.

The gavotte? Are you still doing that? If you want to move with the times, try this new music out of America, it’s called “jazz.” 

On second thought, never mind. You’ll hate it. It’s kind of the musical equivalent to the way you hit the keys on that typewriter.

Postcard #2 from Paris, 1926

I bought an automobile. It’s a Bentley, not that you’ll know what that means. Maybe you don’t even know what automobile means. 

Try “horseless carriage.” You know, those noisy infernal machines taking the place of your precious horse-drawn carriages and omnibuses. Notice how there isn’t as much horse dung on the streets now? Having been overly familiar with dung in my previous job, I call that a win.

Postcard #3 from Paris, 1926

Why don’t they put more writing space on these things? So, I’m going to drive my new horseless carriage all over Europe. Maybe around the world. Will take YEARS. Good automobile. You wouldn’t like it. Goes too fast for you.

Crowley

P.S. Miss you.

P.S.S. Sorry. For everything.

*

Letter on linen paper, 1939

Crowley—

I sense you are back on the continent after your worldwide wanderings in that combustible machine of yours and have sent this to your favorite hotel in Paris and I do hope it reaches you because you MUST get out of there posthaste. It isn’t safe. I have word from Upstairs that things will get out of hand, that a conflagration of extraordinary proportions will occur, and I want you back in England. We should not meet—oh, Crowley, I am so tired of not seeing you but we _mustn’t_ return to our old ways, we simply mustn't. I want you safe. I want—it’s hard to explain what I want…you go too far, my dear, I do so wish you wouldn’t take chances— ~~it’s dreadful here without you~~. ~~I feel less anxious~~ Oh drat. 

I do miss you.

Aziraphale

*

Telegram 1941

DANGER STOP AVOID CHURCH TONIGHT NAZIIS ON TO YOU STOP ACKNOWLEDGE STOP

Telegram 1941, sent ten minutes later

PLEASE BELIEVE ME STOP

Telegram 1941, sent five minutes later

I LOVE YOU STOP SORRY STOP

NO NOT SORRY STOP

I AM COMING TO SAVE YOU AND I LOVE YOU AND I WILL NEVER STOP

Note, 1941

I love you, too.

Don’t ever stop.

Angel

Letter on onion skin paper, 1941

_Anthony?_

Did you not bother to tell me you added a first name just because I couldn’t remember your Crawly-Crowley change for a few centuries? Do you honestly think I couldn’t handle it? 

Do you want me to _use_ it? I will, if you wish. It’s a perfectly fine choice. You do know that it means “worthy of praise”, yes?

The “J” is a bit odd, though. 

Yours,

A.Z. Fell

Note, 1941

A.Z.,

Keep calling me Crowley. I’m used to it.

Besides, I’m not that praiseworthy.

A.J.C.

Note, 1941

C.

Yes, you _are_.

A.

*

Hallmark Thank-You Card, 1967

Angel,

You know why I’m sending this. It meant the world to me that you gave me that flask. Thanks. 

Not too sure about the tartan, though. 

Someday I’ll find a way to meet you in the right place, at the right time, where no one is looking, and when nobody cares what we do.

And someday, I’ll find a way to slow down.

That’s a promise.

Crowley

*

Intra-agency Memorandum, 2013

From: Nanny Ashtoreth

To: Brother Francis

Re: Day Off

I’ve got Thursday off next week. That Rembrandt exhibit you wanted to see at the National Gallery opens that day. My treat. Fancy a bite at your favorite sushi place after? Can you swing it?

Intra-agency Memorandum, 2013

From: Brother Francis

To: Nanny Ashtoreth

Re: Day Off

I got it off! Huzzah! What a splendid way to spend the day. It will be so nice to relax together, and take our minds off—well, you know—the end of the world and all that, for a few hours. Thank you.

By the way, young Warlock _rescued a slug_ from an overly inquisitive jackdaw yesterday. _Hah_. So much for your bloodthirsty lullabies!

*

Valentine’s Day Card, 2019

Angel,

Roses are red

Violets are blue

If the world ends in August

I want to be with you

If we cannot stop it

If eternity’s a lie

I want to be within your arms

And stay there ‘til I die.

Crowley

Note on rose-scented paper, February 15, 2019

My dear Crowley,

We are going to have a hard time ahead.

If things do not go well, we may be parted forever. We may even harm each other, because we are on opposite sides in this war. I know you don’t believe that. But I do.

The powers that have held us apart for six thousand years are stronger than you, stronger than I am by far, and more commanding than you wish to acknowledge. I can only do what I am capable of—and you know me so well, my dear, that you cannot be surprised by any action I take, or by any words I may speak—so please do not go into August believing in miracles for us. We were not meant to love one another.

Come what may, I shall always hold you in my heart.

I shall always love you, come what may.

Angel

Notepaper slid under a door, late August 2019

Crowley,

Something is wrong with your answering machine. And apparently you are still sleeping soundly because my knocks have not brought you forth.

I have finally woken up after that week-long celebration.

Why did you let me drink so much?

I _passed out_. Why did you let me _sleep_ so long? You know I don’t do that. Honestly.

The thing is, I have a sort of an idea. It’s about how and where we should live from now on. It’s about our freedom. Crowley, we are _free_. I never thought we would see this day. I truly did not think the world would turn out this wonderfully for us. I am giddy. And I have _plans_ for us. 

So wake up, you sleepy serpent! Come round to the bookshop as soon as you see this note. I have a real estate listing for a cottage in the South Downs to show to you, which should give you a rather broad hint.

By the way, I love you. 

In fact, I am utterly besotted with you, my dear.

Your one and only Angel

P.S. Do you remember that time you kissed me _on the lips_ in the bookshop the year it opened? Of course you do. You probably replay it in your dreams every night. Well, I should like a repeat performance, please, at your earliest convenience. Thank you.

P.S.S. Bring chocolates.

*

Anniversary Card, September 2020

To the Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate (Former)

One year ago, we moved into this cottage. It made me feel at peace.

One year ago, we pledged to spend the rest of our eternal lives together. That made me feel overjoyed.

One year ago, we kissed for the second time, and I felt as if I had merged completely with the only being I have ever loved, and I knew that I had touched the only heaven which I will ever need.

We were, as you once told me, two halves of one broken soul.

And now we are whole.

Crowley, Lesser Demon and Occasional Serpent (Former)

P.S. The neighbor down the lane has puppies for sale. It’s a small breed with curly gray hair. They look like Trouble.

How many should we get?

*

The End


End file.
